"Ach Gott," Hans cried, "but I cannot, nien, I cannot believe it."
As for Bettina, she was so tired that her feet moved without her any longer feeling them.
"Poor child!" cried the farmer's wife, when Hans begged for admission. "Come in! come in!" And she refused to answer a question of Hans until she had fed Bettina on warm milk and tucked her to rest under a huge feather bed. Then, giving Hans a chair, she went for her husband.
He was busy in his barn, hiding all the corn from the French in a hole he had dug beneath its floor, and covered with fire wood. His wife's steps startled him, and his keen, money-loving face appeared at the door.
"It is I, Herman; Magda," she called, and then told him of Hans and Bettina.
"He seems half crazy to me, Herman, the old man. I've put the child to bed. She's half dead from walking. He says they've come from Jena, where the mother and father were killed after the battle. It's an awful story. He's taking the child to an aunt in East Prussia."
The farmer made no movement to go into the kitchen.
"He can pay for everything, Herman."
His face brightened.
"Ach ja," he said, "but that is different. A moment, dear Magda, and I shall be with you."